


En Garde, Allez

by waterofthemoon



Series: Name That Author/Guess The Author Challenge Fills [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Bickering, Established Relationship, Fencing, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, One Shot, Swordfighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24460162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterofthemoon/pseuds/waterofthemoon
Summary: The inherent eroticism of sparring with your hereditary enemy, in which they manage to fence and bickerflirt at the same time.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Name That Author/Guess The Author Challenge Fills [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1805698
Comments: 7
Kudos: 81
Collections: Name That Author Round Four





	En Garde, Allez

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Name That Author round 4 in the GO Events Discord! The prompt was "this brings back memories," which had to be included in the text somewhere.

"This brings back memories," Crowley says.

"How so?" Aziraphale advances, forcing Crowley back. "We've never sparred like this before."

Crowley parries him easily and makes a move of his own. "Well, France, for one. Just on aesthetics alone."

Aziraphale blushes, glad his face is obscured by his gear, but stays focused on the match. He blocks Crowley's attack and executes a responding thrust as Crowley continues. "And all those times you, y'know. Fought on the side of good."

Lunge, parry, riposte—it's exhilarating, the rhythm of the dance they've fallen into, in this as in all things. "Don't think I didn't notice you, defending villages and whatnot," Crowley says. "Taking up their swords. And then when you were a knight, of course. That was extremely distracting, I'll have you know."

"Oh, like you weren't," Aziraphale fires back, feeling caught out. He senses Crowley's startled grin, even though he can't quite see it.

Crowley is light on his feet, always has been, but Aziraphale is the trained swordsman. It's not a thing he can quite forget, even when he's holding a much lighter fencing sabre rather than a sword of flame.

He manages to catch Crowley off guard and advances on him until Crowley is pushed up against the wall of the sparring room. Aziraphale rests the point of his sabre over Crowley's heart, just enough of a touch to count.

"Yield," Aziraphale says.

It rumbles in his throat. He can see the effect it has on Crowley, the way he shivers with anticipation under Aziraphale's steady gaze.

In answer, Crowley takes off his mask. "You've caught me, have you? What do you plan to do with me?"

His tone is seductive, wily. Even so, Aziraphale lowers his sabre, removes his own mask, and claims Crowley's lovely mouth as his prize.

They kiss for long moments, there against the wall. Aziraphale presses in, pins Crowley there, asks him without words to surrender, and Crowley gives into it, opening his mouth and letting Aziraphale take him.

Or so Aziraphale thinks.

Just as Crowley deepens the kiss, his hand still holding the weapon comes up behind Aziraphale's back, and Aziraphale feels the unmistakable tap of a sabre touch through his padded armor.

Aziraphale's jaw drops in shock. He steps back to glare at Crowley, but Crowley is already laughing and darting away, pulling his mask back on as he goes.

"We're even now!" he calls. "Going to catch me again?"

"We are most certainly _not_ even!" Aziraphale tugs his mask back into place and furiously resumes the match. Lunge, parry, riposte. "That was—that was _poor sportsmanship_ , and _you_ —"

"Oh, this sounds familiar, too."

Crowley presses his advantage, and Aziraphale lets him, just for a moment, before pushing forward with his counterattack. He lands another touch and can't resist a crow of triumph.

"I'll get you back for that," Crowley promises. "Don't think I won't."

They take their stances again, facing off. Behind his mask, Aziraphale grins. "My dear, I have no doubt."


End file.
